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manicpixiedreamcurl · 2 years ago

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The More You Give ❧ (Part III)

Pairing | Eddie x reader

Warnings | 18+ only, do not interact if you are underage. Grinding, oral (f receiving), finger action, spitting, Eddie gets a little touch, cum eating (yup), increasingly dom!Eddie and sub!reader. Eddie has been beat up a whole bunch in the past, bullying, Eddie’s special way of dealing with bullies involves aggressive flirting, consequently some homophobia, general worries and a bit of insecurity for both of them, touch of sub drop. Not a warning but Eddie is on track to be a famous musician in this fic and nobody will stop me.

Word count | ~9,650

A/N | If anything could define reader, it’s that she has constant romantic epiphanies, including while Eddie is between her legs. Only the second date, you say? Not important to reader. She’s hopped up on poetry and Eddie’s smile.

Taglist | Previous Chapter

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You could get used to Eddie at your door. Even as you are now, in a comfy sweater and shorts, he is looking you up and down like you’re dressed to the nines. Butterflies fill your stomach when he flashes his dimples and your fingers twitch with the want to touch his pink cheeks.

“All ready, Princess?”

“Almost.” You need to pack everything you’d prepared, grab your shoes, but you feel stuck fast to your front step, staring at him and chewing the inside of your lip. You wish he’d just kissed you right away. It feels like you’ve been waiting for it every second since you felt his lips last.

Maybe you could ask. Eddie wouldn’t mind. He’d probably like it. But how do you request that sort of thing?

Eddie lets you stare at him uninterrupted for a few seconds, then leans in till his eyes are right by yours. “Anything I can do to help out?” At your shaking head, he nods contemplatively, then glances to the side with his eyes and back, lips pursing in a smile. One eye closes like he has you all figured out. “You want something else from me first?”

You nod, sighing happily when he leans in more. You feel the smile in his kiss. It is a gentle reminder that Eddie likes you just as much as you like him, even in the moments you can’t say everything you want to. You give in to the want of your hands to touch his face, feeling his warmth against your palms. Eddie hums as he pulls away, tongue emerging to lick at his top lip that was just held by yours.

You press your face to his chest, getting a proper hit of what wearing his hoodie this morning had only given you hints of. “I-” A deep, slow breath of him, your mind settling into the fact that it’s Eddie with you. Your voice is muffled by his t-shirt. “I missed you.”

It’s been less than a day, he could say. Or, more devastating, but equally possibly, okay, getting a little clingy.

But it’s Eddie, and no matter what niggling voices suggest, he never would.

“Yeah?” His brown eyes are warm. “Fucking hell, I missed you, too. Waiting all morning to see you was torture.”

You close your eyes and let yourself indulge in being held by Eddie a little longer. Then he waits for you outside while you pack up everything you prepared this morning, a couple sandwiches, pieces of fruit, a pack of cookies. You grab the tape Eddie made you from your walkman, too, tucking it back in its case. You wave to your parents, sitting in the back garden, and rush back through the house before your Mom can get your Dad up from his deck chair.

Eddie’s hand finds yours easily as he takes off up your street. “How’s my girl today?” He asks. “You have a good morning?”

“Listened to my tape.”

“No shit, already? You listened to the whole thing?”

You hum. In fact, you listened to the whole thing three times over. You’d drifted awake with the early Summer sun, anticipation too sweet to fall back to sleep. You’d listened to it in your bed, while you made lunch, and while you were getting ready.

“What, uh, what did you think?” Confident, relaxed Eddie is sitting with unusual tension in his loose limbs. His eyes are steadfastly fixed on the road, his fingers tapping the steering wheel.

“I liked Flight of Icarus.”

Eddie grins, looking pleased with himself. “I thought you might be into that one. Your kinda thing, right?” You swing your feet, thinking about Eddie making choices with your interests in mind. The thought of him deciding, pleased with himself, to include a song about a Greek myth for you to listen to, to help you find your feet in his interest. It makes you want to lay kisses all over his pretty pink cheeks. “Any other favourites I should know about?”

You fish the tape from your bag to get another look at the track list. “Oh. Last Rose of Summer.”

It didn’t sound like metal at all, until you realised it was more the band that played it than this song in particular that tied it to the genre. A lilting, gentle voice, lyrics that made you cover your face with the sleeves of Eddie’s hoodie. “There’s actually-” You tap your feet a little, reminding yourself that Eddie wants to know these things, wants to know about you. “I think it’s a reference to a Thomas Moore poem.”

“Are you kidding? And you like him?” Eddie grins when you nod. “Knew Judas Priest would come through for me.”

“Mm. Some of their stuff was…”

“Oh, they can be intense, for sure. That’s what I like about ‘em, but yeah, I didn’t expect you to like all of it. And I bet you listened on a walkman, too.”

“While I made cookies.”

Eddie opens his mouth like he’s about to complete a thought, then closes it and rests his head back on the seat. “Okay. I mean, Jesus.” He shakes his head, laughing. “I guess I wanna say first that you’re the sweetest thing to ever walk the earth.”

You tuck your knees together, shrugging even as a shy, pleased smile makes its way to your lips.

“But my point was gonna be, the music on that tape was not made to be listened to through headphones. It’s made for stereos, blasting it loud enough to piss off the neighbours, not to be right into the delicate ears of Princesses.” Eddie squeezes your hand. “But I wasn’t expecting that of you, either. And you know, the best, the fucking best, is always to see them live. Judas Priest were the first band I ever saw. At the end,” Eddie brings his hand from yours to his neck, wrapping his thumb in the chain there to display the black plectrum. “Glenn Tipton, the guitarist? He threw this into the crowd. I’d never had a shred of luck but it landed right at my feet and it felt like- like, fate, you know? I dove for it and once I had it in my hand.” He wraps a shaking fist around it tight, knuckles going pale. “I wasn’t letting go for anyone. Some of the guys in the crowd even got me on the ground, kicking me and shit, trying to get me to drop it. Just gave up when they realised I wasn’t ever gonna give it to ‘em.”

“That’s awful.”

“Pretty metal of me though, right?” Eddie turns with a grin, eyes crinkled at the sides and you see he’s so genuinely proud. “I think it could be worth quite a lot, actually. It was their first tour when they really blew up in America in seventy-eight.”

You blink. “How…old were you?”

“Uh, thirteen I think? Had to sneak in. And got caught, obviously. Gave a roadie three ounces not to rat me out; was paying Rick back for months. Didn’t matter, it was the coolest thing I’d ever seen. And it was so, entirely, endlessly worth it. This thing has gotta be lucky. I mean, just look at me now.” Eddie brings your hand up to kiss your knuckles three times, twice fast and the final long. “What more could a metalhead want?”

Eddie knows the lake well, apparently. Not because he spends a lot of time doing the activities Lovers’ Lake is associated with, he assures, after playing for a minute that he’s trying to stop you going into a jealous rage. “You gotta believe me,” he says, pulling your entire body to him dramatically, wrapping an arm around your waist and tipping you back. “They didn’t mean anything, all those thousands of girls. If I’d known you were round the corner for me, I’d have been beating them away with a stick. You gotta see that!” Only when you give him a played up, cute little scowl, does his game fall apart. He scrunches his nose, shrugs sheepishly and tells you that his supplier lives on the East side of the lake and there’s a pretty little spot where he smoked weed for the first time with three other boys set to become drug dealers.

"It's a very special place for me," Eddie explains wistfully when you’ve begun the walk. He guides you over a fallen tree, the hand not holding yours out in front of you, ready for catching. "Picture the guy you see now, a foot and a half shorter, hair buzzed, lacking all the sweet tatties, acting tough and trying to pretend he hadn’t just coughed up a lung smoking for the first time. It happened right here."

It’s not as hard as he might think. You remember when he first moved to Hawkins, suddenly seeing him in the halls, your eleven year old brain marking him down as ‘cute older boy.’ Sometimes you’d see him holding doors open for women, or carrying his guitar around, little things that made him a little cuter.

Once, you spied him rushing into the boys’ bathroom with one hand grasping his stomach, the other over his nose, blood trailing down his chin, dripping red on his shirt.

You listen to Eddie ramble happily about this place, and wonder with a wave of surprising frustration why he isn’t angry all the time. You know so many angry boys, and Eddie has a right to it more than any of them. How can somebody have been hurt so often, treated so poorly, and still end up holding your hand like this? Smiling like that? Talking gently, understanding, kissing sweetly. It doesn’t make sense.

"Only other person that comes out here is Rick, but he's not likely to be up this early."

"Oh, I don't want to get you in trouble."

Eddie looks at you over his shoulder, dimples deep in his cheeks. "I really don't think that’s something we need to worry about, sweet girl."

You emerge at a perfect little patch of grass by the edge of the water, arched by full trees. There's some evidence of previous trips here, but the roaches that scatter the ground are covered over easily by Eddie spreading out the blanket you brought. He holds your hand and guides you down to it, waiting until you’re settled and looking up at him to drop ungracefully at your side.

You drink quickly warming beer, eat sandwiches and listen to Eddie talk about his band, formed soon after that Judas Priest concert, though not to be very good for some years after.

"I mean, it felt so huge, playing a real gig the first time, even if it was just for a couple of drunks who hated every minute.” You chew through bread, meat and lettuce while Eddie speaks, his own sandwich held half way to his mouth like he’s about to take a bite but never quite managing through his impassioned speech. “And after a while, it was like, oh shit I think we’re actually kinda good? I really think, when we’ve all graduated, if I really work at it...” He shrugs a little shyly, takes a bite of the sandwich and makes a quick face of approval as he swallows. “I don’t know. Sometimes I’m just so sure we could do it, go places. I know everyone thinks that, but it’s still true.”

You think he has to go places. You can’t imagine the injustice of Eddie staying in Hawkins forever. That, too, would make no sense.

“I wish you could come see us,” he admits, taking larger bites of his lunch and chewing loudly. “I’d play you Flight of Icarus and Last Rose of Summer, if you did. The guys might not be that into the second one, but if they knew it was for you, they’d be cool with it. Jeff really likes you, did you know that?”

Jeff has been in your grade since you were five, and you remember him when he was the quietest boy in that grade. You’d half bonded through that, understanding eye contact when called on to speak by teachers, the shared frustration of being those kids paired up with the most monstrous boys in the hope of being a good influence.

But when you’d had May, and then Heather, to do some of the talking for you, Jeff didn’t really have anyone. Maybe that was until Eddie and the others. While you’d stayed firmly in your shell, Jeff seemed to have emerged from his. He’s been your lab partner in every Chemistry class since the first year you got to choose, and he’s always the one to answer questions on behalf of your little team.

“I like him.”

“We could all hang out, you know, if you came to a show.”

You nod earnestly. “I do want to, Eddie.”

“This girl’s parents can’t miss one date night?” He asks, eyes flicking between his food and you, hoping you’ll say yes.

“Grace’s Mom does night classes,” you explain. The end of her course seems so far away, and you don’t want to assume that Eddie thinks you’ll still be dating months from now, but you hate the dejected look on his chewing face enough to take the risk. “But they’ll probably let out around the holidays?”

Eddie swallows the last bite of his sandwich and taps his knees excitedly. “You know, that sounded something like a promise.”

“It was.”

Eddie looks so pleased and excited at the prospect that your heart flutters, seeing the certainty he has that he’ll still want to see you, months from now. You let yourself think about the prospect of having Eddie like this for longer, into the New Year. Maybe, the one after that and the one after that. The thought is so nice you could cry.

You split a couple satsumas, handing Eddie pieces for him to pop into his mouth between sentences. When they’re done, Eddie side eyes the cookies in tupperware, waiting for you to offer one.

“Eddie,” you finally say, holding back a laugh. “Would you like a cookie?”

He blinks, tilts his head forward and puts those wide brown eyes to use. “Since I drove us, and found what has to be the most romantic date spot, I think, maybe, I deserve two cookies?”

Through your giggles, the thought strikes, pleasant and scary in equal measure. It’s going to be so easy, falling in love with him.

“You look real pretty today, did I tell you that?” Eddie says with his mouth full of crumbs. He looks so boyish and earnest with it that you press your chin to your shoulder. “And your eyes, you know. I mean, they’re great as they are, but the colours and stuff always look so cool.”

You wiggle your hips happily, tap your stretched out feet. He means the colourful eyeshadow you like, sometimes glittery or blended colours. Today it’s just a pale pink, but it’s one of your favourites. “I like eyeshadow and stuff. It’s way more fun than other makeup.”

“Yeah? That’s cool. If I wore makeup I’d do it like yours. Avoid the boring shit.”

With Eddie’s eyes, you think he might suit it better than most girls do. You wonder if he’d ever try it. You look through your lashes at Eddie’s doe eyes, his pink cheeks and pouty lips. You wouldn’t say it to other boys, but the way Eddie styles himself, you think maybe he might like the suggestion.

“You’d suit eyeliner.”

Eddie’s face splits into a conspiratorial grin as he leans in, hair falling prettily over his shoulders. “I tried it before. For a gig.” His nose scrunches, and he tilts his head. “Poked myself in the eye like nine times. Didn’t look so good through the tears.”

You flinch at the second story of Eddie in pain today, even if this one sounds far less traumatising. Circling a finger on your leg, you look up at him and down again a couple times. “I could- I could show you how, if you wanted.”

“I’d rather you sat on my lap and did it for me.” He crouches his back until he’s looking up at your shy face, eyes sparkling. “Would you like that?”

You shrug, looking away from him before finding his eyes again and nodding.

“Yeah? Maybe when we’re on tour someday that can be your job. Just sit on my lap once a day and get me show ready.” He swallows the last bite of his cookie and leans back with a sigh, resting his head on his hand. “Travel the world, come to all my shows. And you could just read poetry all day, if you wanted.”

You lie down next to him, resting your head on his outstretched arm. Since he’s dreaming, you try, too. “I wanna write about poetry. Translate it.”

“That’s cool. Is that your plan for college?”

You sigh, the daydream fading. You play with the sleeve of your sweater. “Wouldn’t make any money.”

Eddie directs an incredulous look at you. “You know how much famous guitarists make, sweetheart? You don’t worry your sweet little head about shit like money. Just wait, I’ll look after you.”

You turn on your side to look at him properly, find him staring at the tree tops and blinking, lips pressed together and nose scrunched. “Am I being too intense?”

“No.”

“I’ve been told I can be too much too soon.”

Your heart aches to hear that. “Wasn’t too much.”

He looks at you then, searching for a lie. Instead he finds the beginning of something he doesn’t want to name. There’s still time for this to go wrong, like it generally does for him. Eddie’s chest rises and falls in a deep sigh. “I don’t wanna fuck this up.”

You can’t imagine he could. Not him, who has worked out how to talk to you, and how to listen, so easily and with such speed it astounds you. You tuck yourself closer to him until you can count the tiny, barely there freckles on his cheeks.

“Wasn’t too much,” you repeat.

“Okay,” he says with a sigh. Eddie’s eyes trail from your eyes to your lips. “Come here, then.”

You shiver, moving yourself into his space until he directs you up, settling you over his lap, your face close to his. Eddie’s hands come to your cheeks, thumb sliding across your skin. Your eyes flutter at the feeling of being held by him.

Eddie wraps a hand around the back of your neck and draws you to him, giving you a kiss that deepens almost immediately, his tongue licking quick at your bottom lip until you let him taste you and taste him back. A little beer, mainly the chocolate and sweet crumbs of your baking.

This could be heaven. The late afternoon heat cooled by the breeze over the lake. The sound of lapping water and birds singing, being touched, held, kissed by Eddie. His hands find your hips, encouraging you to drop your weight on him, the memory of last night coming hot and fast. You clench inside at the thought of it, wanting that again, wanting it right now.

Eddie groans into your mouth when you take the initiative to roll your hips. His lips drift from your mouth to your jaw, nipping just a little. “Sweetheart,” he presses wet kisses down your neck. “S-say you want me to look after you. Please?”

Your hips roll, wet between your thighs. “I want, oh,” Eddie’s teeth graze the place where your neck meets your collar, his tongue following soon after. “Eddie.”

Eddie grunts, sitting up and bringing you with him until you’re upright, his hand clasping the back of your neck. It’s like he’s learned, noticed it yesterday, how docile that makes you feel. Your eyes move slowly between his left and his right, so wide, so brown, crinkled at the sides with his beautiful smile.

“Go on,” he whispers, pressing a short kiss to your lips before he dives back to your neck, letting your head tilt back with the support of his hand at the base. You hear the distant sound of a boat engine, whirring over the water. You watch the gentle sway of leaves above, swaying with them as your body gives in to Eddie’s direction.

“Will you look after me, Eddie? Please?”

His breath is shaky against your neck. You can feel his nod from the way his hair brushes your chin. “Yes, sweetheart. As long as you’ll let me.”

Your heart cries out, forever and ever and ever and ever.

An engine sputters as a whistle, piercing and strong, rings out across the water. “You know why they call it Lovers Lake, right!?”

Obnoxious laughter follows as you tense up in Eddie’s arms, jerking from his mouth in shock and scrambling off his lap before you can form a thought about how it might make him feel.

“Holy shit- Is that the Freak? Didn’t know you had it in you, Munson!”

You glance up, hoping they’re far away and not approaching. It’s three men, fishing rods in hand despite their young age, already turning into their fathers. You recognise them, vaguely, from your earlier years at Hawkins High, and realise they must have been in Eddie’s grade.

They barely look at you, and it dawns easily that, more than anything, this is an opportunity for them to get at Eddie. He leans back on his arms, tosses his hair over his shoulders and grins coquettishly.

“Well, I’d have shown you if I’d known you were interested, big boy!”

The laughter stops abruptly, replaced by disgusted expressions.

“That’s- God, you really are a freak.”

“Is that you, Scott? Oh have I missed you. Always know the right kinda dirty talk that gets me going.” Eddie winks, rubbing a hand up his thigh towards his crotch.

You’re staring with wide eyes, amazed at him, how easily he’s made them uncomfortable without even throwing an insult.

“You’re a degenerate, Munson.”

“Oh fuck yeah, keep going.”

“Jesus- let’s just go. Don’t wanna catch whatever he’s spreading.”

At this, a steely blue gaze finally finds you. You expect to be mocked, but instead the ringleader, the first one to insult Eddie so terribly, just looks worried. “A nice girl like you. You wanna be more careful about who you hang around with.”

You open your mouth, wanting to say something, but not able to find any words before their engines starts up again, too loud to speak over. You watch them sail across the lake in silence, playing with your fingers as shame crawls up the back of your neck.

“Eddie, are you alright?” While you rub your pointer fingers, Eddie stands quickly, closing open boxes and packing them away into the bag. After a few seconds of silence, your heart starts to ache. “That was- Please say you’re alright.”

“I don’t give a shit about what some future loafer wearing, nine-to-five stock broker cunts think of me, if that’s what you’re asking.” He spies your watering eyes and sighs, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I’ll take you home.”

“I don’t wanna go home.”

“Okay. We can do something else, then.” He gives you a strained smile, not quite looking at you while you stand up after him. The second you’re off the blanket, he’s sweeping it off the ground, rolling it up against his body. “Whatever you want.”

"Please stop.” But everything is gathered, ready to leave already. “It- it’s not because it's you."

"I told you before,” he says, eyes cold despite his words. “It's okay if it is."

"No!" Frustrated tears rise quickly, making your knees shake. "It's not that! It’s not! It's just- I can't-" You make a frustrated noise, all the shame involved in every memory of your past relationship building in your chest even as you're trying to expel it. You cover your eyes with your hands, wishing, wishing, wishing you could just talk. You feel devastated to have ruined this, knowing you should have stayed close to him, defended him. Now he thinks you’re a coward. Worse, that you’re ashamed of him, and it hurts. You feel your hands shake while you whisper. “Please, believe me.”

It takes a second, but you feel Eddie's hands, gentle, on your wrists. "Look at me," he says, helping you drop them and bending at the knees until he's staring into your wet eyes. "There's my girl." Relief floods through you at Eddie’s gentle smile. "You don't have to explain anything to me, okay?”

Oh. He doesn’t believe you. “No. No. It’s not-” You curl your fingers into fists. “You have to understand.”

Eddie watches your desperate face, the pleading way you’re looking at him. “Okay. Okay, if you say it's something else, then it’s something else. Alright?” He wraps you up in his arms, your face hidden in his neck. “Let's go back to mine, yeah?"

In the van, Eddie drives a little slower than usual. He grabs the tape you left in the van, putting it on full blast so there's no pressure for you to speak. While you wallow, his fingers tap against the steering wheel, and it takes you a couple minutes to realise he isn't drumming along, but moving his fingers to follow the progression of the guitar chords.

And then he smiles at you, still a little sad, but earnest, and you know you have to try and get the explanation out, no matter what you end up saying, no matter how your nervous mouth says it.

You take a long, shaky breath and turn the volume down low. Eddie turns to look at you in your periphery but you keep your eyes on the peeling texture on his glove compartment.

“The first time Andy kissed me, I-” You twist your fingers in your sleeves. “I moaned, or something, I guess. I was kind of drunk, and tired, and I…liked it. I didn’t think it was-” Your eyes squeeze shut, toes curling at the memory. “I forgot about it, but then at school, the girls all started making these noises at me, moaning when sat down at lunch. ‘Cause they knew. He’d told his friends, and they’d told their girlfriends, and they all knew about this dumb thing I did. And he- it was like, I should have expected it. Like, of course he told them, he tells them everything. But it just meant-” You rub a sleeve over your eyes, no doubt losing some of the pretty pink shadow Eddie had liked so much. “It was like being watched. Nothing was private, nothing was special. How was I supposed to ever let him touch me, when he’d just go and tell them everything? I couldn’t. But then everyone knew when he was angry with me. And why he dumped me.”

It’s easy to let Eddie touch you. As easy as falling asleep after a long day.

“Sweetheart-”

“It isn’t like that with you, Eddie. But it has to just be you.”

“Of course,” he murmurs, hand finding your sleeve until your fingers emerge and he can link them up. “Of course, baby. Jesus Christ, that son a bitch- and then he wrote that shit on your locker!?”

Who knows if it was him, or one of his friends? They’re all the same, in it together.

“No wonder you were so shaken up the first time. And then I just assumed you were- shit.” Eddie shakes his head, lips pressing together. “I’m sorry, sweet thing. I think, maybe, I’m tryna deal with some of my own stuff too, you know? I want it to work so bad- I want you so fucking bad. You were sitting there, worried out your mind, and I was caught up in convincing myself you’d realised that this doesn’t make any sense.” He drags a hand through his hair, leaving it frizzy and wild at the front. “So we’re not gonna do stuff like that anymore, right? We gotta keep each other in the know when we’re scared, okay? Even if we think it’s tiny. And always listen, even if the listening is hard. Right?”

You nod emphatically, pressing your fingers against Eddie’s knuckles. “Yes, that’s- Yes.”

Eddie lets the agreement sit for a while, until you’re surrounded by the trees leading up to his home. You’re relaxing into the knowledge that Eddie understands, and that it was worth the shame of laying out that part of your life. While you’re ready to sigh in silent relief, Eddie huffs a little laugh.

You tilt your head at him, and Eddie glances at you to the side, realising he’s been caught..

“I’ve just gotta say,” he starts, the dimple that appears on his cheek signalling Eddie’s satisfaction. “It kinda makes me all tingly that you let me touch you kinda easy. Some basketball player acted like a piece of shit? Ruined his chance with you? Doesn’t matter cause you’ve got me, handing out sweet orgasms for your pretty cunt left and right-”

“Eddie!”

He overacts an elated shiver as he pulls into the trailer park. “Oh, yeah, that’s the stuff. I’m addicted to that sound.”

There’s a man on the porch of Eddie’s trailer, face surrounded by dispersing smoke. Eddie spots him and squeezes your hand. “That’s Wayne. He’s kinda quiet, might seem a little grumpy, but he’s even sweeter than you are deep down.”

Eddie grabs the bag of leftovers from your lap, jumping out of the van with well practised ease. When you climb out on the far side, Eddie waits for you with his hand outstretched at the front of his van, wiggling fingers inviting you to hold on to him. Grasping his big palm tight, you let Eddie walk you up to his Uncle, who nods a greeting at you before looking at Eddie.

“Good day?”

“Oh yeah, we went to the lake. This sweet girl made us a little picnic. What about you?”

Wayne hums, shrugs. “There’s fresh coffee if you want it,” he says, tilting the mug in his hand. “I’ll be heading out soon, Eddie.”

“Sure. We thought we’d hang out here for a while before I take her home.”

Wayne hums again, nods a goodbye while Eddie pulls you away.

“Um, it was nice to meet you,” you try.

“And yourself.”

He watches, blowing out more smoke, while Eddie holds the door open for you to run inside, your face warm.

Eddie reaches up for two of the many mugs hanging on the wall, shaking one at you in question until you nod, then he starts pouring coffee while you stand in the middle of his kitchen with one foot tucked over the other. “Milk? Sugar?”

You mumble your preference, then, with a sudden hit of regret. “I forgot to introduce myself.”

Eddie shakes his head, taking a slug of black coffee. “Wayne knows who you are, sweetheart.” You blink owlishly when he hands you the mug, and Eddie shrugs, his soft cheeks growing pink. “I mean, he was here this morning so, I, you know, told him about yesterday. Not everything, obviously, left out the…stuff that’s just for us.” His dimples appear when he hands you a moss green mug. “And I mentioned you before, a few months ago. Had to give him an explanation for why I was suddenly so into Austrian poetry, didn’t I? The man had his hand on my forehead checking for fever.”

Eddie makes your heart flutter. You didn’t know being with somebody could feel like this. That everything they did could make you want them more and more. But even the way Eddie leans back on the counter, displaying his long torso and legs, looking so domestic with his pink face and mug, makes you want to kiss him all over his pretty face.

While you and Eddie drink, your eyes drift to and from each other. Soft, knowing smiles appear and fade every time you make eye contact over your mugs. Neither of you say it, but the knowledge is firm, almost physical in the room. You’re waiting, with gentle impatience, for the sound of Wayne’s car pulling away.

When stones crunch under tyres outside, Eddie sits up from the counter and grabs the half empty mug from your hand to rest it where his hips had been. “C’mon, sweet thing.”

Your head feels light, following Eddie through to his room, watching him sit on the edge of his bed and open his arms for you. Tension you didn’t know you were holding drops from your shoulders. You whine softly, climbing up onto his lap with your knees on the mattress, your feet hanging off the sides. Your mouth finds Eddie’s with ease with his hand appearing on your cheek to direct you.

The taste of coffee is bitter. The taste of Eddie is sweeter than anything.

“You know what I was thinking about, before those pricks interrupted?” Eddie’s voice vibrates across your skin as he kisses down your neck, landing exactly where he was when you froze up. Your little negative sound has his lips curling, a soft hum sounding from the back of his throat. “Wanted to get these shorts off, lay you back and finally get a taste of your little pussy.” You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling slick and hot everywhere, but mostly at the place where Eddie wants to go. “But since we’re here, I think we can take off a little more, mm? How’s that sound?”

You press your face to his neck, trapping some of his hair there, breathing in so much Eddie that your thoughts fuzz and blend together. “C’mon, sweetheart. This first, yeah?” He tugs on the hem of your sweater, and you lean back to let him tug it over your head, revealing the pretty pastel of your bra, the little butterfly charm hanging between the cups. Wet kisses trail over the curve of your breasts, sometimes giving you a graze of teeth, the hot wet sting of his tongue.

“Gonna need you to stand up, baby. Just for a minute, I promise,”

Your unhappy mewl fades with a long lick of his tongue up your throat, the excited shiver it draws up your spine. Your hands find his shoulders, his soft hair tickling your wrists.

Eddie leans down to grasp your ankle, bringing your foot up to his thigh and resting it there. He pulls at the laces of your sneaker before working it off your foot, hooking his finger into your sock to take that off too. His pink lips curve at the sparkly polish on your nails, and he helps you bring your foot back down to work off the other shoe.

Eddie’s beautiful face is set in concentration while he works at the button of your shorts and pulls them down. His pink tongue peaking out, pressing to his top lip. He stares your mound, cupped by decorated cotton, a little vinyl butterfly sitting just under the band. His eyes trail up your body, landing on your adoring face. “You always match ‘em up, or are all these butterflies for little old me?”

You can’t resist. You bring a hand to his forehead, brushing some of his hair back from the heated skin just to feel it, soft under your fingers. To see Eddie's eyes, wide and excited, flutter at your touch.

Eddie’s sweet attention has you reaching that hand behind you, followed by the other, unhooking your bra at the back and letting it fall easily from your arms to the floor. He watches your face for another few seconds, waiting for your nervous smile before his gaze finds your chest.

Eddie’s groan is cut off when his mouth meets the plush skin, your fingers tangling in his hair, pressing to his scalp when he finds your nipple and brings it between his pretty lips. Your body jumps, torso tilting to offer it up to him, his tongue flicking and lathing at the sensitive peak.

Eddie drags his face across your chest to mess with the other side, making little, satisfied noises which mix pleasantly with the wet sound of his lapping tongue. You moan into the air at the warm of his lips, his encasing mouth leaving the nipple sensitive and pebbled. Eddie hums, licks a stripe up the middle of your tits, and rests his chin on your décolletage to blink at your pleasured face. “Wanna get on the bed f’me?”

Eddie helps you settle yourself, head comfy and supported by what he assures is the best pillow, throwing the other off the bed dismissively like it's not worthy of your head. He climbs over you then, his hair falling around your face until you reach up to tuck it round one side of his neck. Eddie kisses your wrist with his eyes closed. Then you stare at each other, letting the anticipation build while you map facial features and what a person’s eyes look like when you're in the process of falling.

You're first to break, the slick place between your legs that is hot only for Eddie forcing you tug on the sleeve of his shirt. He doesn't hesitate, pulling it up from his back and off.

You wish you'd asked for this yesterday.

Eddie is all pale and pink skin, a dusting of dark hair across his chest and down his lean but soft stomach. The tattoos you'd seen on his arms continue to his torso. A demon and a spider collected just under his neck, Corroded Coffin under his last right rib, a laughing skull just above his hip.

"You like 'em?" Eddie asks proudly when your finger follows one leg of the spider.

You hum a yes. "Did they hurt?"

"Oh yeah, real bad, but it's okay cause I mean, I'm pretty tough." You giggle at his expression which begs you to be impressed. "Oh that's funny, huh? What you trying to say, girly? You don't think I'm tough?"

Your mirth fades, giving way to gentle fondness. Your heart pounds the way you think it might for others when they’re about to admit to a crime. Things like this are still so difficult, even after you told Eddie that you only want him to know you like this, even after Eddie told you he dreams of a future with you in it. That’s the reason you have to say it anyway. Eddie deserves everything you can give him. "I think you're…lovely."

Sitting back on his legs, Eddie pulls a chunk of dark hair across his face. "Me?” You nod and he drops his hair, pressing his chin to his shoulder coquettishly and fluttering his eyelashes until you giggle. He leans over you, then, drawing kisses across your neck and chest. “Well, I think you're lovely, too." A quick suck of a pebbled nipple just to hear you gasp. He looks up at you, blinking slow as the kisses trail further down. "The loveliest there is." Below your breasts, above your belly button, your hips by the elastic of your underwear.

Your mound, hidden by cotton, his kisses hot enough to sting through fabric. Eddie takes a deep breath through his nose, eyelids fluttering. Slowly, he brings his hands to your thighs, pressing until your body is open and waiting for him.

"You're shaking."

You are. In your thighs and your hands where they are clasped together at your collar. "I'm okay."

Eddie fixes you with a serious look. "You say the word and we stop, okay? I mean it."

"Don't want to stop."

He breathes through his nose, smiles gently. His finger trails along where elastic meets your thigh. He rests his cheek on the cotton. "I can’t take it anymore,” he says, soft tone a contrast to his words. “These are simply just too sexy.” Your lilac butterfly panties, cotton and comfy. You fight another giggle. “So I'm gonna take ‘em off now, ‘kay?"

"Mm."

Eddie continues the catlike rub of his cheek, thumb playing with the elastic waistband of your panties like he’s plucking a guitar string. “Then I’m gonna taste your pretty pussy.” The eye contact he gives you is intense, contributing to the shivers of anticipation running along your spine as much as his words. His fingers hook into your waistband while he sits up, dragging it down off your hips, keeping his eyes on yours as they travel past your thighs. “And while I’m playing with your sweet little cunt.” He pulls your panties off your feet and glances at them briefly before they disappear behind his back. Eddie reaches for your hands, grasps your wrists and directs them down until they are tangled at the top of his hair. “You’re gonna help me out, yeah? Tell me what you like with these hands.”

Eddie’s gaze drops to your cunt as he lowers his face to it, his hands caressing the inside of your thighs. He grins, eyes slight, and presses his cheek to your mound again, feeling the soft curls of hair against his face. He nuzzles his nose in, kisses your mound. “Does that sound good, angel face?”

Your pussy throbs and your heart aches. You want him, want him, want him. In this way and in every way. Want him in bed, to touch and to be touched, to fall asleep tucked together, or curled up at his side. Want him in this room and yours, listening to him, forcing yourself to be listened to, or sitting in quiet activity, the same or different as long as you can hear him breathing. Want him in his van, at his gigs, sitting together at school. Want him in the library with you, at parties he isn’t invited to, sitting drinking smoothies with your friends.

But you can’t say that. Not you, and definitely not right now.

Instead, you brush his hair back from his forehead with one gentle hand, tangle your fingers tight to his scalp, and guide him to where he’s needed.

Eddie snickers, lips exploring the sensitivity of your cunt. He finds the centre of you and presses a kiss there, his tongue sneaking out to lap at the slick hole. Eddie groans at the back of his throat, fingers digging into the softness of your thighs as he presses his face deeper with a wiggle. His tongue presses at your soft entrance until the tip of it ventures inside, making you squirm and curl your fingers into the hair at the back of his head. Your cunt squeezes around his exploring tongue, and Eddie pulls back, leaving a trail of spit and slick between his chin and your cunt to look you in the eye and speak with confidence. “Aww, she missed me.”

Your hips twitch and you tug at his hair so he’ll get back to it. His eyes shine while he draws his tongue, wide, hot and wet, up the entire length of your cunt, pleased at your show of desperation. When his tongue spreads warm spit over your twitching clit, your body is his. You fall back into the pillow at your head, legs relaxing open for him. “Eddie.”

“I know,” he murmurs, kissing your clit to feel the sweet little twitch between his lips. “I remember. She’s a sensitive little thing, hm? Think she needs some tender loving care?”

Your fingers stroke gently through the hair at his scalp. “Please,” you whisper, tears bubbling in your eyes, your cunt throbbing, your body crying out for him. “Please, please, please, plea-”

Your legs kick out when he latches onto your clit, giving it a torturously long suck that pulls at the sensitive nerves until tears are falling. His lapping tongue follows, the wet noises of his mouth on your cunt filling your head.

The pad of his middle finger circles your entrance and you clasp as his hair, nodding your acquiescence to the ceiling. He must see, because he presses inside, the slick you’re pouring easing the way for him. Your eyes roll back as the sick, sweet combination of Eddie’s tongue playing with your clit and the slight aching stretch of his finger inside you, pressing to the spot at the back of your cunt that makes your toes curl in the air.

Nothing feels like this. Eddie’s mouth on your clit feels gorgeous, his lips wrapping perfectly around it between flicks of his tongue, a new type of pleasurable kiss that comes with gentle suction and Eddie’s happy little groans. Your cunt flexes around Eddie’s finger like it’s trying to impress him, show him how good you’ll feel around his cock.

With a movement of his wrist, Eddie brings the torture to the most sensitive spot at the back of your cunt. Your legs seize. Eddie turns his face and licks horizontal stripes across your clit, letting it flick side to side on his tongue until the pleasure is tight and burning. Your fingers tense in his hair.

Another moan of his name carries through the air, long and high, while waves of ecstasy crash and peak, your whole body shaking and thankful for him. Your mind is a desperate loop of keep me, touch me, love me, please, please, please.

The waves settle, your fingers loosen and fall from him entirely, resting at your sides. Eddie sighs, and pulls his mouth from you, watching your body twitch through an aftershock, thighs involuntarily closing the second he’s sat up.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Eddie speaks through his teeth, forcing his hand back between your legs, squeezed between the softness of your thighs.

“Wh-Eddie!”

“Don’t ever hide from me.”

While his right hand rubs callused pads against your clit, his left finds your knee, presses it out and back until your cunt spreads, sticky and swollen for him. You gasp and shake, the build so much easier now that he’s playing with a button already made sensitive. Eddie watches your face, your eyes hazy, your mouth open and wanting him.

You’ll get him, but first Eddie directs his mouth to your cunt, removing his hand for just a second. Spit lands, with seemingly practised precision, on your desperate bud. You feel the glide of it downwards, pooling at your soft cunt. When Eddie’s hand returns, it’s with two fingers circling that hole, his thumb coming to give your clit some abuse. Eddie finds your gaze, and tilts his chin downwards.

His expression gives the game away, wide eyes and raised eyebrows an explicit question of permission to stretch you a little more.

You press your feet to the mattress, pushing yourself in the direction of his hand, and Eddie’s eyes pool to darkness, a barely there movement of his lips turning the comforting smile to a mocking one. Two thick fingers press inside your tight cunt, the stretch of it just the right side of painful after he’s made you so deliciously wet with his mouth. The ache of it, the prickling feeling in the back of your neck that, in some way, Eddie is preparing you for him, getting your body ready to be split by his cock, makes your hips desperate. You mewl for him to move his fingers a couple seconds before you’re truly ready. Eddie’s expression; intense, obsessive fascination, makes the sting feel just like pleasure does.

Eddie blinks slow, gaze travelling along your body. Your curled toes and tense legs, sodden cunt and tits bouncing with the movement of your hips. He finds your face, your wet eyes. “Man. You’re really mine, aren’t you?”

You feel it happening deep in your cunt before it reaches your clit, simmering there before it travels up your spine and makes you howl. Your clenching cunt soaks his hand, the sound of his fingers fucking you through your high entirely filthy but Eddie couldn’t love it more.

When you start to whine at the overstimulation of your nervy body, Eddie slows his hand, pulls his fingers from you with a loud sucking noise that makes you cover your face while he grins. More wet noises have you looking through your fingers to watch Eddie licking at his fingers like they’re covered in icing, eyes closed in bliss.

It makes your cunt clench, but there’s also a rising cold feeling to go with your shivering sweaty body and the ache between your legs. A thin layer of wetness appears in your eyes without your permission. You’ve felt this before, but now you know in your bones that solving this feeling is as easy as whispering, “Eddie.”

His eyes snap to you, reading your breath and the pleading look in your shining eyes. He’s moving in a second, retrieving your soft sweater from his floor and helping you sit up so he can pull it over your head. Eddie lays at your side and you watch him unbuckle his jeans and push them off ungracefully with wiggling hips and kicking legs, his tongue making an appearance to show his concentration. He directs you gently so he can untuck his duvet from under you and pull it over your bodies. Your legs tangle, bare feet meeting his wiggling toes trapped in socks. He pulls you in with a strong arm, presses his nose to yours and rubs them together until you’re giggling softly.

“Did I- It felt good, right?”

You nod, then push forward to rub his nose with yours again, earning yourself a return giggle.

“I’m obsessed with you,”.

You wiggle, unsure. “Didn’t do anything.”

“Uh, yeah you did, sweetheart. Did everything a good girl should. Trusted me to make you feel good.”

“Didn’t make you feel good.”

At this, Eddie’s smile turns salacious. “You think your thighs squeezing my head didn’t feel good?”

You huddle closer to hide against his chest. “Didn’t make you…you didn’t get to…”

“Mmm, sweet girl,” he kisses your sweaty temple. Eddie wraps your hand in his and guides it under the sheets, across the softness of his stomach to the top of his boxers. You look at him when he helps your fingers wiggle past the elastic and card through thick hair, whimpering at your first touch of his cock. He’s returning to softness, but you feel the girth of him under your searching fingers. Eddie’s eyes flutter, teeth grit at your touch on his sensitive cock. He holds your wrist at the band of his underwear until you find the tip of him and gasp softly at the pool of thick cum. You breathe each other’s breath as he pulls your hand free, clasping your wrist and bringing your hand between your faces. Eddie’s cum is thick, still warm and webbing between your fingers.

You watch Eddie’s tongue peak out and lathe over the pad of your first finger, pulling the end of it into his mouth and sucking himself away. He does this again, and again, until you are clean of his cum.

Eddie hums. “Not half as good as you, but I think you’ll like it.”

You press your face to his chest again, listening to his laugh above your head. Eddie wraps his arms around you and gives you a tight, boyish squeeze of a hug. “You need anything? Want anything? Water? A cookie?”

You shake your head, eyes drooping, wanting nothing more than to snooze with the feel and smell of him surrounding you. Eddie coos softly, strokes your hair and helps you settle, comfy and cosy, against his body and the mattress. You hear him fiddle with his watch behind your head, then feel him wiggle and relax next to you.

You sleep for less than an hour, his watch ringing out a rude awakening soon after you drift off, but the time in Eddie’s arms is worth a thousand easy lie-ins.

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

“What’s going on with you today?” You blink away the memory of Eddie’s face over yours when he woke you up in his van after driving you home yesterday, the gentle shake of his head at your apology, the way he’d kissed you at the door.

Heather stands with her hands on her hips, the matching airy blouse and cream skirt making her look exactly as femininely refined as she wants to be, like Rosalynn Carter when she was the First Lady.

She’s planning an outfit for her acceptance speech, hopefully happening on Friday in front of the entire senior year. Her chances are good. The competition is twofold. Margot Hill, a nice, but forgetful, girl who forgot to show up to last week’s assembly when she was supposed to lay out her manifesto. Then there’s Fred Benson, who is smart and capable, but has managed to piss off the entire basketball team (and therefore their girlfriends) by writing a mockingly celebratory story for the school paper on a particularly humiliating game last year. Knowing the level of forgiveness displayed by that influential group, you suspect he may not even beat Margot.

“I’m sorry. You look perfect. Very refined.”

“But still, like, cool, right?”

You consider her, then nod. “With a belt, I think? And I can do your makeup Friday morning.”

Heather gives you a winning smile and disappears back into the mall changing room, closing the curtain behind her. After a second, her head pops back out. “What were you thinking about, before?”

You chew your lip and Heather, having known you for years now, recognises the signs of a secret waiting to be spilled. She looks intrigued, eyebrows raising in question.

“Eddie asked me out.”

Her mouth drops open. “No way. Did you say yes?” You nod, and she makes a surprised noise, disappearing behind the curtain again. “When did this happen?”

“Monday.”

There’s the sound of a zipper, followed by shifting fabric, then a pause. You can almost hear her working it out. “Wait,” there’s her face again, eyes wide. “Did you already go on a date?”

You nod again. “Twice.”

“No. Way!” A final vanishing behind the curtain, the sound of clinking hangers and then the metallic whir of the curtain moving over the rail. She holds the blouse and skirt combo in one hand, the rejected alternatives in the other. “So, wow. You really do like him, then?”

You take a deep breath, refusing to nod at this question. “I- I like him so much it hurts.”

“Have you told May?” The question is like a splash of cold water. You shake your head. “She’s going to lose her mind, you know that, right?”

You had been considering that this afternoon. The way Eddie is, really is, all boyish smiles and consideration, it was easy to forget what people think of him, what May thinks of him. But Eddie is important to you now in a million ways.

The thought of losing his hugs, his kisses, his eyes gazing into yours, makes your heart sore. The thought of losing his touch between your legs makes your entire body ache. The thought of hurting him, pulling away after you’d given and taken so much of each other already. It makes you want to curl up into a ball and sob.

“I think I can explain it in a way...that will make her understand.”

There’s a pause, then Heather snorts. “You’re going to explain it.” That hurts, just a little, but her disbelief is not entirely misplaced. “You’re going to explain it to May. The least understanding person, maybe in the world?”

“Don’t say that.” This has been happening increasingly.

“She doesn’t even understand why I’m dating Patrick! Oh no, if a boy doesn’t play basketball, or isn’t at the very least popular, May’s got no time for him.”

You curl your fingers in your skirt, never knowing what to do when either of them acts like this. More and more, you weren’t spending time with them together unless you were getting ready for a party. Your weekly shopping and smoothie trips had been reduced to you and Heather, with May saving her money for bimonthly trips to Indianapolis with the cheer squad. Your regular sleepovers have been reduced to you and May, with Heather keeping her nights free so she can visit Patrick at a moment's notice.

May judges Heather’s boyfriend, her time spent with model UN and running for class president, the conservative way she dresses. Heather judges May’s taste in boys, her self-applied heavy makeup, the fact that her grades have slipped every year since she joined cheer.

You are caught in the middle of them. Staying silent is a betrayal, but telling would be too. So you end up quietly pleading for it all to go back to the way it was when you were twelve and Heather joined what had been a dedicated twosome for years. It was all the joy of collective discovery then. New, exciting things like makeup and dancing and boys.

“You know that’s why she’s being crazy about you getting back with Andy, right? She went to him and told him you were meeting Eddie in the forest that day. Has that occurred to you?”

You feel stupid that it hadn’t. “When I tell her about Eddie-”

“She’ll get worse. And you know it.” She sighs, tilting her head at your worried expression, nervous fingers grasping fabric. “Ugh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- Listen. Let me just buy these, then I wanna get a mango-strawberry smoothie and hear every detail.”

You grin at her, worry giving way to the warm, innocent love reserved for your friends, exclusive to her, and to May.

Next Chapter

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #tmyg

614 notes · View notes

misshoneybee · 3 years ago

Text

⟣ 𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑆𝐸 𝐴𝑅𝐸 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐻𝐴𝑁𝐷𝑆 𝑂𝐹 𝐹𝐴𝑇𝐸 ⟢

— 𝑋𝑉. 𝐼 𝐶𝐴𝑁 𝑆𝐸𝐸 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐸𝑁𝐷 𝐴𝑆 𝐼𝑇 𝐵𝐸𝐺𝐼𝑁𝑆

Masterpost — OFC Biography — Playlists — Chapter XIV — Chapter XVI

❧ Pairings | Post-Infinity War!Steve Rogers x Original Female Character

❧ Warnings | Mature content, explicit language, fluff, smut (fingering, oral (m-rec), p in v sex, squirting, overstimulation, basically it's porn with feelings)

❧ Wordcount | ~7.1k

❧ Disclaimer | Dividers are by firefly-graphics. If you are a minor, or do not have your age in your bio, and I catch you interacting with this, you will be blocked. If you believe you were blocked unfairly, send me an ask with your url.

You'll see me in hindsight, Tangled up with you all night, burnin' it down. Someday when you leave me, I’ll bet these memories follow you around. ( Wildest Dreams | 1989 )

January 8, 2023

Thirty-two was off to a banner start and Maggie had only been awake for just over half an hour. Rather than waking up with the rising sun or being jolted from her REM cycle by an obnoxiously loud alarm on her nightstand, Steve’s head between her legs had gently roused her from her slumber. He’d murmured a low ‘happy birthday’ against her pelvic bone before trailing hot, open mouth kisses down and recapturing her already swollen clit between lips; his tongue dragging over her with unhurried licks that pulled her apart piece by piece.

Three leg-shaking, heart-stopping orgasms later, as she lay face down in the bed with her face pressed into the pillows, thoroughly spent, he’d playfully smacked her ass and told her to shower while he ‘took care of some things.’

It wasn’t much later that Maggie, her hair still slightly wet as it dampened the back of her robe where it brushed against her shoulder blades, finally heard Steve come back into their room. Opening the door, the residual steam from the shower rolled out, the hot humid air spilling into their bedroom from around her. Leaning against the door’s frame, she watched him easily carry a tray of pancakes and fruit and coffee, “And what’s all this?”

“I had breakfast in bed, but you didn’t.”

The wink he gave her made her already pink skin darken; he certainly had. It wasn’t even nine and she’d been thoroughly fucked. She had a sneaking suspicion that he enjoyed morning sex even more than she did. There was no doubt that their spirits were much higher on the days that they woke just a little earlier to have some time to their selves. Yet, he still had the audacity to call her insatiable.

The three orgasms that he’d gifted her that morning may have said the same about him.

Placing the tray gently on the newly made bed, Steve grabbed the belt of her robe and pulled her close, a surprisingly cool hand coming to cup her face as the other wrapped around her waist. As his thumb rubbed the angry, red skin of her cheek, he fretted, “You’re going to burn yourself taking showers that hot.”

“Mm, you’re just saying that because you took a seventy-year ice bath and you’re still not used to normal temperatures.” Giggling, she stood on her toes and threaded her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her level to meet her in a slow, languid kiss of toothpaste and coffee. She squealed against his lips as he lifted her easily, giving a gentle smack to her ass as he carried her back to the haven of their bed. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she raised an eyebrow, pulling back from his kiss with a wet sound, “Is there something going on with you and my ass this morning?”

“Nope, just appreciating all of you.” Steve shrugged; his grin was roguish, nonetheless.

With one last squeeze to her perky bottom, covered only by the thin, knit cotton of her robe, Maggie unwound her legs from him as he placed her back on the bed. Scooting in beside her, she tucked herself into his side as he pulled the tray closer, pressing his lips to her head. The heady scent of vanilla and flowers from her shower had mixed with the scent her soft skin and was like a drug, so distracting and intoxicating. He wanted to press his lips over every square inch of her.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, baby.” The hand resting on his thigh gave a soft squeeze as she took a sip of the coffee that's shade was just on the right side of beige. Eating together, in their quiet bubble of a lazy Sunday morning, they managed to discuss everything and nothing through bites of sliced peaches and apples and pancakes with maple syrup. Since they’d begun dating, she’d taken pity on the hero and Steve’s kitchen skills had now improved far beyond his old specials of burnt toast and boiled green beans thanks to her intervention.

Reaching over to his nightstand, she didn’t miss the half-smile as Steve glanced at their old photobooth pictures that lay beside the aged, bronze compass that he always kept on his person. Rifling through the organized drawer, he easily retrieved the familiar piece of paper that she’d come to look forward to each year.

“I wonder what that could be.” Her eyes sparkled as she wiped the sticky, saccharine syrup from her fingers onto a napkin, reaching for it.

“I thought you might like a topographical map of the Alps—”

“Stop being a dork and give me my picture!” She demanded; her voice bratty though her smile was playful. Rolling her eyes as he shook his head, she jabbed an annoyed finger into his side that had very little give from the thick oblique muscles that padded his abdomen.

“You know what? You’re spoiled.” Steve deadpanned. Holding the page just out of her reach, he peered down at her with narrowed eyes that sparkled with mirth, “But you’re lucky I love you.”

“Don’t I know it.” As she tapped a still water-pruned fingertip against his nose, he relented and handed it to her.

“To be fair, I’m probably the lucky one.” He murmured quietly as she looked at the piece of art. Five years and she had at least twice as many pictures that he’d drawn of her and the pair of them—with a few of she and Natasha thrown in for good measure. The ones he gave her for every birthday, though, were always of her alone, usually from some time that they’d been together—though, thankfully none were quite as scandalous as the one of her laying in the nude on his old couch.

But this year’s was different than its predecessors. The background was unfamiliar, it wasn’t the compound or the outdoors but instead some cozy room that she didn’t recognize; there was a large bay window cracked opened as a soft breeze ruffled the curtains and a tiny, faint bassinet just below it. Her hair was shorter than it was now, and she looked just slightly older.

Without needing to ask, Steve exhaled an almost nervous laugh, “I know it’s different.” He looked at it, a tender nostalgia on his handsome features, “I just, I had a dream a few weeks ago and…it felt like I saw the future.”

Very quickly, it all made sense. The background looked almost like the little house on the Cape they’d stayed in years ago with the cozy coastal interior they’d came to know. And the bassinet—it was for them. For the, somehow becoming less-and-less abstract, concept of their future child. Maggie’s voice was thick with unshed tears as she pressed her lips against his chest, tucking her face into it, “I love it.”

Wrapping his arms around her small frame, Steve’s shoulders almost sagged with relief at her reaction. Somehow in their years of back-and-forth and after finally getting together, Maggie had slowly warmed to the idea of having that future that once felt so unattainable to the both of them. He wasn’t scaring her off with wanting more and she wasn’t running away any longer.

Silent for a few minutes, he could almost hear the gears of her minds turning; she opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to start some sentence that seemed to evade her. Raising an eyebrow at her, he didn’t expect the quick question that fell from her lips before he could ask what was going on.

“What would you think about moving out?”

She’d asked once a few years ago when she’d wanted him to move into her room, she could do it again. It had been on her mind since New Year’s Eve—if they were going to have a life together, like they both knew they wanted, there was something that they could do to kickstart it.

When Steve still hadn’t responded, she continued nervously, adding, “Both of us. From…here.”

“Really?” Leaning back, his eyes searched hers in earnest. Even after all this time, there were still occasions when he had no clue where her head was. She hadn’t ever mentioned leaving the facility and it wasn’t something he’d thought about either. Since moving from Washington after the fall of SHIELD, he'd lived at the compound aside from the few years that he’d been on the run. It was one of the only homes that he’d ever known. “Are you sure?”

Her hands gripped the soft fabric of his t-shirt and she nodded with a soft half-smile that lit up her eyes, “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

The fear—that constant low, dull thrum of anxiety that always seemed to flow through her veins—was all but gone. It had been replaced by a level of cautious excitement, instead. She wanted it; she wanted a quiet life with Steve. He had helped her let go of those doubts that had always toiled just below the surface.

Now she knew that not everyone left. And she didn’t have to always leave either.

When Maggie was younger, she always heard that love made people crazy, but she never would have thought that, in some cases, maybe it grounded you instead. Their love felt like her feet in damp soil, watching flowers grow over them as she stood and allowed the beautiful colors to flourish, the petals in vibrant shades of red and gold and the same color of blue as his eyes.

She was content to stay in the delicately balanced ecosystem they’d created together.

“Where to?” Steve leaned back, crossing his long legs at the ankle. There was a boyish excitement palpable in his tone as he began to think aloud, “I mean, we could always go back to the city, if that’s what you wanted. The drive out here isn’t too bad, and we can go—”

“I like it out here.” She cut him off, her nose scrunched as her finger trailed up and down his chest thoughtfully, picturing them getting a place in the city. Though her formative years had been spent in Manhattan, she’d grown to love something about the quiet upstate location they’d called home for so long. It was peaceful, more of a green oasis than a concrete jungle.

A call that Maggie had received a few days earlier quickly came to mind and she perked up, resting her legs atop his and intertwining them. “I still have the little house a few minutes away. My renter’s lease is up this spring and they’re moving, so what if…we moved into it?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s kind of…perfect, you know.” Sighing contentedly, she leaned into him.

Maggie had bought the house soon after taking her job with the Stark Relief Foundation though she’d only lived there for a little more than a year before moving into the New Avenger’s Facility. It was a modest Victorian cottage, with three bedrooms and a cute little wrap around porch. There was an abundance of natural light that illuminated the small space through giant leaded, glass windows and a big kitchen that had eventually been what sold her on the investment.

“It has a yard and it’s right on the lake—”

“Is there an extra bedroom for Nat?” He looked down at her, only mildly joking, as he squeezed her sides, “You know if we leave, she’ll only eat sandwiches and chips. She’ll get scurvy or something.”

She couldn’t help her snort that bled into laughter; he certainly wasn’t wrong. They’d sort of fallen into a habit in the past four years and she was slightly sad that it would be coming to an end. Maggie cooked dinner or lunch or whatever meal of the day while Natasha and Steve split cleaning duties after they’d eaten together. Maggie was pretty certain that aside from what she cooked, the spy subsisted off little more than peanut butter sandwiches and frozen pizza.

Without a doubt, she knew Natasha would be happy for them taking the next step, but Maggie would miss having her best friend only two doors down. She’d miss bothering her after work and the late-night talks and flopping down on her bed to lay around on lazy weekends when they exchanged funny stories from their lives.

Though she knew that she’d still see Natasha several times per week for training, and undoubtedly when she’d come over for dinner, it still felt like the end of an era.

After her giggling had ceased, Maggie gave him a small shrug, shooting him a sidelong glance as she nonchalantly added, “Well, I guess we can wait a year or so to turn it in to a nursery, anyway.”

Since their scare just a week earlier, it seemed as though the idea of starting a family would pop into Maggie’s mind at the most inopportune of times. And for once, it didn’t seem to fill her with fear. She’d spot baby clothes at the store and stop, looking through them before snapping back to reality and quickly walking away, her cheeks flushed a deep red. When Tony or Pepper would send her videos of Morgan singing the alphabet or drawing some off-the-wall imagination, she’d instead picture a little boy with brown hair and blue eyes in her place.

“Wait…” Steve sat up slowly, his eyes looking so tenderly into hers as a smile grew on his face while he took in her words. In a year or maybe a little more, Maggie would be ready to start a family. With him. His voice was almost a whisper as he asked, “Really?”

Her nod was shy as she held his gaze, unable to stop her own smile when he finally grinned unabashedly, yanking her on to his lap as she let out a shrieking laugh. Gripping his shirt as he situated her to straddle his thighs, she pulled his face to hers without a second thought.

The sweet, sticky maple syrup that had been left on her lips was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

May 8, 2023

She should have figured that moving with a super soldier would turn the normally tedious process into a piece of cake. When Maggie had moved out of the house and into the compound all those years earlier, she always figured it was only a temporary arrangement and she’d left it furnished. As such, she and Steve really only had to move their personal effects from their old home to the new.

Well, Steve did, at least. With a kiss to her forehead, he’d eventually banished her from unloading the truck when she’d kept getting in his way as he carried their belongings into the house. Well, that and because she was ‘distracting him with those fucking pants again.’

At that, she’d rolled her eyes with a mischievous smile, and an extra swing in her hips, and gone into the house to begin unpacking all that they’d brought with them.

It felt so domestic as she sifted through their things that had been mixed together. His art, her knick-knacks. It was still hard to believe that this was their home now. It’s where they’d have their Christmases with a big, light-strung fir tree in the corner of the living room, the fireplace crackling merrily in front of the sofa as they exchanged gifts. It’s where they’d have friends over for dinner parties to drink and talk and play games.

It’s where their life together would really start.

“We should get a dog.” Steve leaned against the wall, the sleeves of his t-shirt hugging his biceps tightly as he crossed his arms. There was a crooked smile as he watched her move around the kitchen with an ease that only muscle memory could give her, putting their few odds and ends away, her beloved knife set, his favorite mug with the kitschy printed cat.

Shaking her head, she met his eyes from across the island, “You are such a dog person.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” He looked almost offended at her implication as he stalked around the counter, his gaze focused on her as she kept her distance, walking backwards as he followed slowly.

It was part of the quintessential suburban life that she could picture him in; holding the leash as he moved in an easy jog, waving to their neighbors, and asking how they’d been and how the kids were. He’d want to do barbeques on the weekends where he’d man the grill and make some punny jokes that would make her laugh and groan at the same time.

There was something almost romantic when she actually thought about what they could have.

“I can see you with some goofy golden retriever and going on runs with him in the morning—” Rolling her eyes with a fond smile, Maggie giggled as he finally caught her around the waist, picking her up and sitting her on the cool, butcher block countertop as he protested.

“That sounds nice!”

“Because��you’re a dog person!” Steve settled between her spread legs, and she threaded her arms around his neck. Twirling the short strands of his hair at the nape of his neck around her fingers, she thought for a moment before bargaining, “Let’s start with a cat then we can work our way up. I can barely keep a plant alive.”

Maggie was a quick learner but there was something about gardening that she’d never quite managed to get the hang of. Every herb or flower or vegetable that she’d planted had always failed to thrive. And aside from the robot cat that Tony had made her when she was a child, she’d never even had a pet.

One gigantic life changing event was enough. At least, it was for the next six business months.

He hummed, considering her idea with a small smile, “Cat, dog…kids?”

“Something like that.” Nodding, Maggie smiled at the light tickle from his thumbs as they rubbed soft circles on her bare waist where the cropped tank top didn’t quite reach the band of her leggings. Feigning a thoughtful expression, she shrugged, “Maybe we should start with a goldfish.”

Shaking his head at her teasing, he nudged, “I think we can skip that step.”

A faux-scandalized gasp came from her parted lips, humor sparkling in her deep brown eyes as she rested a small hand in the middle of his chest, “Oh, look at Captain Rogers, cutting corners. Living outside the law.”

“Can you blame me?” Using her waist, he pulled her closer to the edge of the counter so he could easily duck his head, finding her lips in a slow kiss as he murmured against them, “I just want our life together to start as soon as possible.”

He could feel her smile against his mouth as she hummed, “I think it already has.”

The windows that lined the kitchen were covered with only sheer curtains, allowing the golden rays from the setting sun to fill the room with its warm light. This was their life now. And it was perfect.

When she pulled her lips back, she rested her forehead against his contentedly, sighing softly. Giving his side a gentle pinch, she finally murmured, “You stink. Go shower.”

Steve grumbled, leaning back to sniff his t-shirt; he’d been bringing things in since before lunch while Maggie had spent most of the day inside in the conditioned air. Reaching behind his head, he grabbed the collar of his shirt, yanking it off over his head in one swift movement, mussing his dirty blonde hair as he innocently suggested, “I should probably have some company. You know, with the new house and all. Don’t wanna get lost.”

“You’re a big boy.” She trailed her index finger slowly down the line between his abs, his skin hot against it as she stopped just above his Adonis belt with a sly look in her eyes that made him bite the inside of his cheek as she removed her hand, leaning back against the counter.

‘Minx.’

She shrugged, “I was kind of on a roll here.”

“Fine.” With a deep, exaggerated sigh and one short kiss to her forehead, he grabbed his shirt and headed into the master bath that she’d unpacked earlier along with their bedroom. Through the walls, she heard the heavy rainfall from the shower quickly turn on as she finished organizing the utensils in the drawer. There wasn’t much left aside from some decorations and clothes in boxes, their suitcases had already been emptied into their dresser and closet but she still felt restless.

Maggie had already done a lap around the house, looking for any stray boxes that she could unpack before nightfall, but she’d come up empty handed. Somehow, most of the work was already done. Grabbing the moving truck keys, she opened the screen door on to the picturesque porch, jogging down the brick stairs. By the time she reached the truck, her hand gripping the handle of the back door and wiggling it, she heard a voice from behind her.

“Miss, do you have a license to drive that?”

Startled, she whipped around with a hand pressed against her chest to calm her racing heart. Rolling her eyes, she spotted Steve as he leaned against the hood of her car just a few feet behind her, having snuck out of the house after she did. Illuminated by the orange-yellow hues that bathed the landscape in the setting sun, his dark blonde hair looked almost brown from the water that still saturrated it.

“Haha, very funny.” Her voice was flat as she held up the keys, giving them a gentle shake as the metal pieces rattled against one another. “I was making sure we locked it.”

“Well, then if you’re done out here…” In three short, purposeful, strides, he’d made it to her with a devilish grin. With one arm tight around her waist, Steve hooked his other under her knees and hoisted her up into a bridal style carry as a quiet squeak broke from her parted lips.

“Steve!” Her fingers gripped the clean t-shirt he’d donned, clinging to him tightly, as he carried her back towards the house. “What the hell are you doing?”

Pausing as they reached the screen door that granted the fresh summer air entry into the home, the look he gave her was playfully exasperated. “I have to carry you over the threshold.”

Resting a hand on his cheek, Maggie tried to stifle her smile as she broke the news to him with a shake of her head, “I think that’s for married couples, goofball.” Giggling at the mistaken tradition, her body shook in his arms as he chuckled too, his head dropping to his chest in mock defeat.

After a moment, he shrugged with a charming smile, his face still slightly pink as he grabbed the door handle anyway, “Well, we’ll call it practice for the future.” Butterflies took flight in her stomach as he swung open the door, letting it gently bounce back against the wall as he carried her into the house—their house.

‘Practice for the future.’

Over the last few years, the idea of marriage and all of its flaws and scary uncertainties had begun grow on Maggie. It was a slow acclimation but every day, the fear of the future had seemed to lessen with Steve by her side. It was only the beginning, but they were in it for the long haul; a long marriage, a few children, a retirement home in some Florida town riddled with palm trees.

She wanted all of it if it was with him.

Her thumb resting on his cheek brushed the bare skin just above his beard as she toed off her sneakers so they fell to the floor, a coy smile played on her lips as she raised an eyebrow, “I know something else we could practice for now.” Steve tilted his face into her hand, comforted by her warm touch, as she continued slyly, “Isn’t it good luck to christen a new house?”

“It definitely is.” He nodded at her query with darkened, excited eyes while quickly shutting and locking the heavy wooden and glass-windowed door behind them. With a grin, he quickly beelined for their room as Maggie let out a melodious laugh, holding on to him tightly as he jostled her with each long bound. She was suddenly very glad that she’d thought to make their bed earlier.

His hands were delicate and purposeful as he held her eyes, pulling the cropped top over her head and tossing it into the laundry basket where it landed quietly. Between kisses and gentle brushes of hands, as he removed an item of clothing from her body, she did the same to him, tit for tat, until they were both bare.

She grinned against Steve’s lips and he let out a surprised, “Mm” as she rolled on top of him, straddling his hips and letting out a soft sigh as her wet core came in contact with his rapidly, hardening cock. Allowing her eyes to flutter shut, she rocked back and forth against his thick shaft as his hands on her waist guided her smoothly.

“You already wet for me, sweetheart?” She could almost hear the teasing smirk as his lazy hands roamed her body with no particular destination in mind, just wanting to touch all of her that he was able to. Sliding them up her ribs, he cupped her breasts, his thumbs ghosting over the dusky pink nipples that had puckered with the cool air.

“Maybe…” Maggie teased, her lips finally leaving his as she trailed, hot, wet kisses down his neck and chest, her teeth grazing one of his nipples gently.

Letting out a low groan, his hips bucked up towards her at the sensation. As he peered down at her, she couldn’t help but wink as she placed her hands on the sides of his hips to press them into the bed. She knew he could easily move but the surprised look in his eyes told her that he wouldn’t dare as she whispered, “But I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

Mouthing her way down his chest, to the line that separated his abdominal muscles, she hummed as she finally came to what she sought. His cock stood proud, sprung up and resting firmly against his low abdomen. The thick tip was ruddy, begging for relief and she couldn’t deny it any longer. Her tongue darted out with a little kitten lick, the salty taste of the pearly bead of precum leaking from the tip spreading across it.

She kept her tongue flat as she licked a broad, messy stroke from the base of it, nestled against his tight scrotum, up to the tip, her hand wrapping around it gently as she swirled her tongue around his swollen head. Keeping her eyes on his face, she watching with a little smirk as he groaned, his head falling back against the pillows that she’d bought the day before. His fingers dug into the new duvet, and she released his cock with a wet ‘pop’ and a heat in her eyes.

He whined at the loss of her lips, and she couldn’t help but giggle at his neediness, shaking her head. Taking his hand from where it rested on the bed, she placed it on the back of her head and met Steve’s gaze from beneath her lashes. Her doe-eyes may have been flooded with innocence, but her words were anything but as she smirked, “Show me what to do, Captain.”

As his fingers threaded through the messy bronze waves that tumbled around her bare shoulders, he let out a low groan, his head lazing backwards once again. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me doing this someday, sweetheart.”

“What a way to go…” Maggie grinned as his hand guided her mouth back down where he wanted it. She hummed, her tongue tracing the vein that trailed up the underside of his length before her lips spread, opening her mouth, and relaxing her jaw to accommodate the familiar, thick girth as he slowly pushed her head down. It wasn’t long after the first time that she’d gotten her mouth on him, that she’d finally been able to take him down her throat.

After the learning curve, she loved to suck his cock. It was something she’d come to crave—seeing him almost fall to pieces as she kneeled before him in the shower, letting him fuck her mouth until he came on her tits or down her throat, coating her tongue with the bitter, musky taste of his hot spend. There was something so satisfying about melting him into a pool of molten gold.

Letting out a moan around his length, unable to speak, she met his eyes as he quickly found a rhythm. Using her spit-slicked hand, she stroked what couldn’t fit down her throat as saliva ran down her chin from the sides of her occupied mouth.

“Look so beautiful sweetheart. With those sweet, little lips wrapped around my cock. Just letting me fuck your mouth…”

Steve let out a low groan from deep in his chest as he watched her, the length of his cock almost engulfed completely in the wet heat of her talented mouth. The hand tangled in her hair guided her mouth firmly up and down him as he sighed blissfully, “Fuck, that’s my girl.”

She hummed at the praise, sending vibrations down his shaft as she hollowed her cheeks out. Gripping his hips as he jutted them forward at the sudden change in suction, she gagged at the sensation of the crown of his cock brushing the back of her throat.

If her lips weren’t otherwise occupied, she would have smirked at the way he’d lost just a little bit of control, something that was almost impossible to get him to do.

Almost dripping, Maggie rubbed her thighs together with a muffled whine, seeking some relief before she felt like her body would catch fire. Her eyes watered but she bobbed her head faster before pulling off with a gasp for air as she used her hand to jerk him off, her tongue focusing its attention on the tip. She licked a line just below his swollen crown before mouthing hot, wet kisses down his length, her tongue tracing the seam between his balls as he let out a grunt, his fingers tightening at the sensation.

“Mm, come here, baby.” With a gentle tug to her hair, he pulled her back up his body, ignoring her whining complaint at the interruption. His sweat damp chest pressed against hers as a hand cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing over her swollen and red, spit soaked lips. Smudged mascara framed her wet eyes and he groaned, “Need to fuck you now.”

It almost took her breath away as he quickly flipped her over, her back suddenly pressed into the mattress. Kneeling between her spread legs, the blue of his eyes was almost totally eclipsed by the black pupil that had been blown wide as he took in the sight of his naked girlfriend, wet and so, so needy for him. His hand on the inside of her thigh spread her open further for him as the other slipped into the thick wetness between her legs that had only worsened while she’d been preoccupied with him.

“Need to get you ready, sweetheart.” Steve groaned, as Maggie’s back arched, squirming as he easily slipped two digits into her tight cunt, his thumb rubbing gentle circles around her swollen clit, brushing over it every so often and drawing a whine from her red lips. In the low light, he could see the way her puffy folds glistened, feeling each contraction of her walls as she squeezed around his middle and index finger while he pumped them in and out of her slowly. “Gotta make sure you can take me…”

“Please—” Whimpering, she rolled her hips up into his touch, her toes curling as the pads of his fingers pressed against the sweet spot deep within her and she writhed at the sensation, a needy moan dripping from her open, gasping mouth. Her hand reached down to grasp at his wrist, too big for her to even wrap her fingers around it completely as she pleaded, “Need you—need your big cock to fuck me hard. Please!”

Groaning, he pulled his fingers from where she was gripping them like a vice. There was no way he could ever deny her when she looked so pretty, spread out and begging for him. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she watched him suck her juices from his digits, savoring the sweet essence that covered his tongue, making his mouth water just at the thought of devouring her.

'Later.’

Now, she needed him as badly as he needed her. With a low, almost dark voice, he instructed her, nodding to the gold metal bars behind her, “Hold on to the headboard.”

Steve gave his momentarily neglected cock a few, slow strokes and watched as she reached up and wrapped her fingers around the cool metal, spreading herself out for him. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he watched her hungrily; the way her tits seemed to move with every deep breath that she took, the way her hips twitched needily as she waited for him to move.

It was like she could feel the blush spreading down her body under his eyes. Using his hand to guide himself, he brushed the tip of his cock through her slippery wetness that had begun to trail down her ass, soaking the sheets beneath them.

“Look at you, spread so pretty under me, letting me in this sweet, little cunt.” He cooed.

With the strength that she gripped the bars with, Maggie was almost certain that her knuckles had turned almost white as he gripped her hips and sank into her with one, leisurely thrust. Her brows drew together at the familiar, delicious feeling, her eyes squeezing shut as she let out a soft, “oh!”

Tilting his head back, exposing the bob of his Adam’s apple, he let out a low groan as they both basked in the sweet moment of relief. His hips were pressed to hers for just a second before he pulled out almost completely and immediately plunged back in, setting a frenzied tempo as he began to fuck her in earnest. Her hands on the bars kept her anchored as each thrust of his hips created the sound of smacking skin, again and again, the depraved sound somehow making her even wetter.

“Oh—” She bit her lip as he angled deeper, her thighs clenching around him.

“Don’t keep those sounds from me,” He growled, pulling her hips up to meet his, the ridges of his hard length massaging her soft, inner walls with each quick thrust. A dangerous, lazy smirk rested on his lips as he cajoled, “Be loud for me, sweetheart. No one can hear you and your cute little noises. It’s just you and me, now—goddamn, those moans drive me fuckin’ crazy.”

As he cut off with a groan, Maggie let out a whimper; his pace becoming more frantic as each rut of his hips pushed in deeper, his tip kissing her cervix as his balls smacked against her ass and coaxed almost pleasure-slurred, whiny words from her lips as she begged, “Need this—fuck! Need to come, Steve. Baby, please!”

Reaching down, he rubbed her clit hungrily, the sudden stimulation directly to the small bundle of nerves forcing her to tilt her hips, almost trying to shy away from the intensity of touch but he was reckless as he felt her clench around him tighter.

He teased, “Is that what you needed, sweetheart?” He felt the tightness low in his abdomen clench and moaned, “I want you to milk my cock. Can you do that for me? Can you come on my cock? Let me fill you up, baby?”

As he murmured, he felt her slick running down his balls and spreading over the inside of her thighs, leaving them both messy and wet with every snap of his hips. Maggie nodded; he was fucking her almost speechless as she mumbled, “Yes, oh—” It was only a few more thrusts before she gasped out, “Steve!”

The pads of his fingers against her clit and the way the head of his cock slammed into the spongey spot deep within her finally made the rubber-band of hot tension deep in her belly snap. The climax she’d been chasing made a wordless cry tumble from her lips as she arched her back up from the bed and felt a flood of wetness cover his cock with each of his frenzied thrusts.

Looking down where their bodies were joined, he watched the clear fluid come in short bursts from her tight, clenching hole with a satisfied pride as her hips twitched with the contractions of her orgasm. Almost slack-jawed, his eyes went impossibly darker and he all but growled.

“Did you squirt for me, baby? God fucking dammit—” Grabbing her hips, his fingers dug into her soft flesh with a pleasurable bite of pain as he increased his already impossibly fast rhythm, “Didn’t know my girl could fuckin’ gush. Gonna make you do that all the time—get you to squirt all over my cock until you can’t fuckin’ walk straight anymore.”

Writhing beneath him, she wasn’t even certain if the strangled sounds falling from her mouth formed words as she cried out his name. Maggie’s vision had whited out, her body shaking as the overstimulation bled into a second orgasm and she felt hot tears fall on to her cheeks from the bliss that spilled over. There wasn’t a rational thought left in her fuzzy brain, only the primitive, pleasure-seeking part was left behind as she bucked up into him again.

“Can feel that little pussy squeezin’ me so goddamn tight. That’s it— Take my cum, baby.” With one last snap, he bottomed out, his hip’s flush with hers. Coming with a low groan, he felt the telltale clench in his balls as he emptied himself deep inside of her quivering cunt.

After a moment, Steve slowly pulled his softened cock from her and a shiver ran down his back as he watched the white, pearly cream slowly drip from her tight hole. Biting his lip, he used his thumb to push it back inside of her as he groaned, “Mm, fuck, baby. Can see it dripping out of that tight little pussy…”

After a moment of staring at their combined spend and running his thumb through it until he was satisfied no more would leak out, he leaned down and found her lips with his, brushing some of the stray tears from her face. The way his tongue moved with hers was languorous and she sighed discontentedly once he withdrew his lips from hers, wanting more.

She couldn’t bring herself to care that the hand that rested on her cheek was streaked with both of their fluids as he caressed it gently. His brows were drawn together as he breathed deeply, murmuring worriedly, “You okay, baby?”

Maggie’s full lips were swollen from his kiss, her dark lashes fluttering open to reveal her wet, molten caramel eyes that were still glazed over from the way he’d made her come undone. Nodding, she swallowed, her throat dry as she croaked out, “Yeah.” A dreamy smile pulled at the corner of her mouth, “Very okay.”

“Good.” She couldn’t help but giggle at the way his shoulders slumped with relief as she came back from orbit.

Lying beside her while they gathered their strength to actually move from the bed again, Steve pulled her body into his and pressed his lips against her temple and she hummed serenely at the gesture. She wasn’t sure how long they laid there before she finally peeled her skin from his and stood, stretching her sex-sore limbs as she sauntered into the ensuite.

He’d followed her into the shower with the intention of just keeping her company, but somehow that had resulted in him pressing her against the marble wall as he kneeled before her. Her legs were thrown over his broad shoulders and her fingers in his hair as his tongue explored her cunt until she’d had tears streaming down her cheeks again, mixing with the shower’s water as she came twice more, her entire body trembling with the intense gratification.

Finally, they’d gotten around to actually cleaning her up and she’d groaned as the hot water soothed the knots deep in her flesh. Using the little green loofa and a heavy drizzle of her flowery soap, he’d washed every inch of her slowly, each brush of the sponge careful and intentional, his lips trailing after it as he worshipped her body. His touch was light, incredibly affectionate as he wrapped her in one of the fluffy towels that they’d bought and carried her back into bed.

It was dark outside, the moon’s light streaming in through the sheer curtains as the quiet sounds of crickets and the lake outside bled into the room and mixed with the symphony of their slow breathing. As he laid on his stomach, she traced invisible lines between the constellations of freckles on his back like stars in a moonless sky; she may have loved astronomy but, out of the universe, he was her favorite galaxy. From the pillow beside her own, his face was turned towards her, silently watching as her soft finger connected the dots on his back slowly, her eyes on the smooth expanse of skin.

His sleepy voice was soft but the tenderness within it was thick like summer air after a sudden storm; it wrapped around her, touching, and drenching every inch of her bare skin as he murmured, “I love you, Marguerite Hall.”

Her tired eyes softened as a shy smile pulled at the corners of her lips; she could feel her body grow warm. It was like his words lit the embers in her chest; it wasn’t a blazing inferno or a sudden explosion like it had been at first all those years earlier when their love was still new and electrifying. Instead, after all that time, it had become a comfortable, constant glow like a lantern that lit the night and guided her. It was entrancing and hopeful; something she didn’t want to live without.

It was something she knew that she would never grow tired of hearing.

“I love you, Steven Rogers.”

❧ Author’s Note | I feel like I have to tell you guys that the events of Endgame are upon us and I am so, so sorry for the impending angst.

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